Chicago
CHICAGO Lyric Theatre, Star City, May 17 to August 9; Ticketmaster.com or 1300 795 267
What’s not to like about Chicago? It’s full of murder, betrayal, injustice, lies, deceit, gorgeous babes, ruthless lawyers, luckless saps, dodgy money, drugs, booze, sex and celebrity. It’s like the Sydney Sunday papers with good tunes and great dancing.
More than that, however, Chicago is also a celebration of the world of vaudeville; and that’s what propels this Australian production right through the roof and into the stratosphere. The Kander-Ebb-Fosse show is one of the most successful products of Broadway ever, but its deceptive simplicity neatly disguises why. Unless, that is, you’re a devotee of the broad and bawdy delights of burlesque, vaudeville and music hall.
Each song, each character and every bit of schtick and choreography are inspired by or refer to a star or style of the vaudeville shows of the late 19th and early years of the 20th century. This is tricky when you consider that very few performers nowadays are either trained in or capable of the wide-ranging skills of the craft of live, no-second-chance variety. To assemble a cast whose principals are as good as any in the history of the genre is, therefore, quite something.
Singer-dancer-actor-comediennes don’t come any better than Caroline O’Connor and Sharon Millerchip. As the murderous twosome Velma Kelly and Roxie Hart they are dynamite. When they demonstrate, individually then together, how they’d wow ’em with a “sister act”, there is no pretence, there are no half measures; they are effortlessly channelling the greatest stars of tap, tunes and tawdry that ever cartwheeled across a stage.
And in a drop-dead glam tux and décolletage as the butch boss lady of the women’s prison, Gina Riley is lubricious, sassy and spot on as Matron Morton. When she sings her theme song “When you’re good to Mama” the double and treble entendres are flying while an arched eyebrow duets with the next line: “Mama’s good to you”.
Big-time flash lawyer Billy Flynn is a part made for Craig McLachlan. He does the tricky mix of debonair and sleazy with knowing elan and can deliver a cheesy, manly ballad with the twinkly-est charm since Howard Keel. Damien Bermingham is a delight as Roxie’s sap of a husband, Amos, and his interpretation of “Mr Cellophane” is poignant and powerful. And as Mary Sunshine, the lady court reporter with a big secret, DC Harlock is a talent Sydney needs to see more of.
This is the “black” version of Chicago which originated in 1996 (Ann Reinking’s after-Fosse choreography and Walter Bobbie’s direction). It’s so called because of the minimal, matte black set of centrally situated three tiered, on-stage bleachers. These are occupied by the orchestra whose members, and the majority of the cast, are clad in equally monochromatic costumes – with the major exception of Billy Flynn’s chorines with their white ostrich feather fans. Together with the sharp, geometric lighting, a bentwood chair or two, plus bowler hats and snap brim fedoras – which are props more than clothing – the effect is stark and dramatic.
It also concentrates focus on the choreography and therefore, the dancers. There is no hiding place for anyone when they’re rapping out the high-tension, no-crap, athletic discipline of the Fosse style. It’s both sinuous and sensuous but the emphasis is on body and muscle – and confidence and control over both. The troupe is overwhelmingly splendid and when fronted in various numbers by O’Connor and Millerchip, the results are dazzling.
Whether you saw it a decade ago or loved the movie version with Ca-Zo and Renee, you could do little better than give yourself the shot in the arm (pardon me) that is this production and this cast. And while the fellas are terrific, assembling such a collection of broads again in a hurry is unlikely. They’re wondrous.
Photography: Jeff Busby
